


is it anything and everything you hoped for?

by j_gabrielle



Series: perhaps, this [14]
Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Domestic, Epilogue, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Soft!Erik, Time Jump, happy feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 23:17:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13868073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: Epilogue





	1. seven months later

T’Challa steps off the Talon, greeted by his Mama and Shuri by her side.

“How is he?” He asks immediately, barely pausing to return the salute. 

“So impatient.” Shuri teases, but pulls up the projection of Erik’s vitals over her Kimoyo beads. “As you can see, my team and I are taking very good care of him.”

Mama hooks an arm over his. “Come now, my son. Let’s go meet your heir.”

The business with the United Nations and the Avengers took him away for the last weeks of Erik’s pregnancy. He’d been hesitant to accept the invite to speak, but Erik had shook his head and told him, “Go be a hero.”

And now, he has missed the birth of his firstborn.

Granted, the baby is two weeks early, but it hadn't changed the fact that he was not there to pace outside the birthing suite as was his right as father. “Zuri is with him.” Mama says as they walk. “We are waiting for you to give him a name before we bless him.”

Erik is sitting up on his bed with their child in his arms, surrounded by a mount of pillows. He looks tired, but relaxed. T’Challa feels his breath catch. And at his entrance into the room, Erik lights up, smiling. “Hey baby.”

“My love.” T’Challa says, feet rushing to his side. Drawing him into a kiss, he lets all the worry and the stress fade away to the back of his mind. 

“You need to meet your son, my King.” Erik shifts his body. T’Challa laughs. His son sleeps in his arms, swaddled in the blanket Mama had woven. 

“Hello.” T’Challa greets, stroking his thumb over his son’s brow. His son stirs, grunting, but does not wake. “Welcome to the world.” 

Shuri comes to join them, climbing on the bed and taking the other side of Erik. “So, what’s his name?”

Erik gently transfers the baby into T’Challa's arms. He coos at him, smiling. “Simba.”

“T’Challa!”

“I swear to Bast, brother…”

“Baby, if you do that you’re sleeping on the couch for the next five years.”

T’Challa laughs, rumbling and pleased. “I’m just joking! I'm just joking!”

Mama clicks her tongue, but the corners of her lips twitch in amusement. “So. What is his name?”

“Babatunde.” T’Challa says, looking down at his son. “Tunde for short.”

“Return of the father.” Mama nods approvingly. Shuri folds her arms.

“What’s with the face? You have a better name in mind?”

Shuri bites at her lip, looking down at her lap. “I was thinking… Kanye?”

“Oh lord, please Shuri.” Erik groans. “Imagine the ego.”

“No, silly! I meant like, freedom.” Shuri nudging Erik’s shoulder. "Because he was born free."

“That’s actually kinda good.” T’Challa says in wonderment.

Shuri scoffs. “Of course it is. I’m the genius in this family, remember?”

“Yes, you are. Thank you.” Erik smiles as T’Challa moves to gently set the baby down.

Mama reaches over, touching her on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s give them a moment alone.”

T’Challa does not wait for the door to snick shut before climbing onto the bed with his family. “Did it go well?” Erik asks, leaning against the arm T’Challa throws around his shoulder.

“The world has its’ eyes on us now.” T’Challa acknowledges, patting Erik’s hand holding their son. “It’s a brave new world.”

Erik nods. Tilting his face, he presses their lips together for a moment. They settle into the comfortable silence, happy to just be as they are. But of course, this would be the moment their son whines, kicking into wakefulness. His cries rise in volume and T’Challa recoils in helplessness.

“Come back here and help me with your son.” Erik sighs, rolling his eyes. He points over at the table by the window already set up with the baby formula. Though he had carried their son, his body had not changed that much to be able to feed him the way new female mothers do.

“Why is he my son when he’s crying?” T’Challa mutters. His hand moves as taught by their midwife months ago, picking up the correct bottles and containers.

“Because I carried him for nine months and I’ll probably never be rid of these stretch marks.” Erik volleys back as he rocks their baby against his chest. “Come at me when you’ve done that.”

“We’re never getting any sleep again, aren’t we?” T’Challa winces at the swell in crying when he hands over the milk to Erik. Their son drinks it with gusto. T’Challa sits down next to Erik, wrapping an arm around his waist. Erik hums a song to the baby as he feeds. 

“Not for the next eighteen years, I think.” Erik smiles. 


	2. Oakland and Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [For Talltree-san. Who helped me see the end game.]
> 
> Also, Wikipedia says that Power Rangers in the 90s only started in ’93. But I already dug my hole, so I’m gonna go lie in it.

T’Challa folds his arms behind him at rest, following closely behind his father as they enter the apartment. Whatever they were doing in Oakland, California, is nothing he can unravel.

The man who stands to greet his father has his emotions splayed on his face unrestrainedly. But he drops to a kneel at the King’s feet, only to be brought back to a stand. “T’Challa, stay out here.” T’Chaka says, eyes not leaving the man’s face. “Is there somewhere we can talk alone?”

“Through here, my King.” The man gestures, leading the way and leaving T’Challa alone in the living room.

“Wanna watch Power Rangers with me?”

The voice from the couch startles him. A pair of curious brown eyes watch him while the lights from the television screen play on his face. “I don’t see why not.” T’Challa answers, shedding his coat to drape over the back of a chair. “May I?” He gestures to the space on the couch next to the boy.

“You’re the Prince of Wakanda, aren’t you?” The boy unfolds himself to face him. “And that’s the King?”

“Yes, I am. And what would your name be?” T’Challa asks, because his mother raised him with proper manners and would be appalled if he didn’t at least ask for it.

“Baba says I’m N’Jadaka.” The boy worries his teeth on his bottom lip. His oversized hoodie slips over the tips of his fingers when he wrings his hands.

“I’m T’Challa.”

“I know.” They lapse into a silence punctuated by the Rangers fighting an evil monster. “My Baba says Wakandan sunsets are the most beautiful he has ever seen.”

T’Challa is intrigued by that. Looking back down the hallway where their fathers have disappeared to, he says, “It is. I have yet to see anything more beautiful than it.”

“Do you think I’ll ever see it?” N'Jadaka asks softly. 

T’Challa considers his next words carefully. “Perhaps. One day.” The boy nods after a beat and settles into a long breathless diatribe about how the Power Rangers were The Best Thing Ever. N’Jadaka can’t have been that different in age from him, but it was charming to see him talking about the Red Ranger with a fervour T’Challa has only seen in the way baby Shuri dismantles her toys.

“T’Challa, come.” His father says when he exits the room followed by N’Jadaka’s father. T’Challa looks over at the clock on the far wall and sees that it has been an hour. He stands, nodding as he reaches for his coat. N’Jadaka's father looks solemn and so very sad as he bows. T’Chaka does not speak, jaw working as he inclines his head, moving to the door.

T’Challa turns to leave behind his father but before his feet can cross the threshold, he feels a tug at his sleeve. “Goodbye.” N'Jadaka says, eyes like saucers. 

“Goodbye.” T’Challa smiles, folding his hand over his on his sleeve. The younger boy seems to deliberate on something, before blinking once, surging up to kiss the corner of T’Challa’s lips. Before he can properly process it, N’Jadaka has fled back down the hallway and he hears a door slam.

N’Jadaka’s father has his eyes focused on where his son has disappeared to. “Forgive my son-“

“It’s nothing.” T’Chaka says, clasping a hand on T’Challa’s shoulder. Whatever the other man sees on his father’s face, he will never know, because he allows himself to be led, trusting like a lamb.

T’Challa climbs into the car. He looks up the building, just as his fathers guard turns the ignition, up to where a small face is pressed against the window, watching him.

* * *

Years later, snuggled up on the balcony watching the evening lights of Wakanda, T’Challa wraps himself around his Consort. It’s a cool evening and Shuri is showing her nephew the miniature Panther suit she devised for him inside. Tomorrow, the Avengers will be taking a quick sojourn to Wakanda. T'Challa is hopeful that the time away from official Avengers business could, with any luck, knock some sense into Steve and Tony's heads to get their acts together and just, for Bast's sake, kiss already. Tickling his husband with kisses and swallowing his laughter with his own, he slides a tiny figurine into Erik’s hand.

“What’s this?” Erik laughs, moving his body with care to his distended belly. The Red Ranger is carefully inspected, though he remains confused for a beat before realisation dawns.

“That was my first kiss, you know? The one you stole in Oakland.” T’Challa teases, tilting his Erik’s face for a kiss, a mirror to the one from a lifetime ago. 

“I didn’t think you’d remember.” Erik whispers, lips curled in a pleased and shy smile.

Pressing their foreheads together, T’Challa nuzzles against him. “I’m sorry it took me this long. You must think me a fool.”

“No,” Erik pulls away, shaking his head, “I think you’re a good man, with a good heart. The man I chose to love.” Gently cupping his cheek, “And I chose well."

And what was there left to do, but to pull him into a fevered embrace. T’Challa runs a hand through Erik’s locks as they part, breathless, tucking the other man against him. “We should get a private screening of the latest Power Rangers movie. Bast knows that once the little ones comes along, we won’t have much time alone.”

“Mm, only if you want to.” Erik leans back into T’Challa's arms. 

“Don’t you want to? Wasn’t he your favourite superhero?”

“I don’t need to.” Erik says easily, palm rubbing soothing circles on the apex of his pregnant swell where their twins sleep. “I married the Black Panther, after all.” 

Anything else he has to say is swallowed up in a surprised laugh and the happy sounds of T’Challa sweeping his Consort up and carrying him back into their room.

 

[end.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it everyone :)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so the second chapter to the epilogue and then an extra bit some time on Monday. Thank you to everyone who stuck with this, left a comment, a kudos, or even just took the time out to read it. I am incredibly grateful xx
> 
> You can leave me some moodboard requests [Here](http://hardheartshere.tumblr.com/ask) or you can leave me some fic requests [Here](http://randomingoftherandomness.tumblr.com/ask)


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